ELECTION YEAR: TWO POEMS

_{pixabay: Geralt}

---

BEASTIES, THEY COME AGAIN

---

Beasties creep
Through darkened streets,
Bloodstained lips grinning
At little kiddies holding dolls.

They promise peace
With guns cocked at kiddies' throats.
They preach hope
Even as they rip, rape
Through kiddies' dreams.

They demand worship,
These beasties, with blood
On their claws and flesh
On their sharpened teeth.
Like old forgotten gods,
They demand bloody sacrifices.

Have we not bled enough?
Have we not wept enough?
We will never find peace or hope
Or anything that is close to happiness?

Beasties, they are here again,
Making promises, wooing
Desperate, hungry bodies
Washed up ashore, waiting
For the sun to shine again.

They are here again,
Giving gifts, seeding kiddies
Chests with laser sights
For future bullet wounds.
They are here again, the beasties
Of our nightmares.
Oh Mama, they are here again.

---

TOMORROW DIED

---

They are killing tomorrow, mama.
They gave him some change,
Fed him some rice,
Gave him a few bottles,
Two sweet, sweet rolled up joints,
And a woman for the night.

They gave him a gun, mama.
He strapped up, got into the truck
And high on life, fled into the din;
Rabble deflecting bullets
With paper thin skin,
Catching flashing machetes
On soft buttery flesh.
Oh mama, he jumped into the melee,
Screaming acronyms that mean
Nothing in the grand scheme.

The bullets and bleeding machetes
Dug paths through him
Like rainy season streams
After dry seasons dry winds.
They fed his body to the gods
Of power and fear and
They salivated for more.

Ha! Mama! He fell
Like a sack of cassava.
He stumbled into dust, mama
And fed the earth with his blood.
The rabble rousers, democratic
In their spilling of blood
Went on into the darkness
Even as beasties in suits and ties,
Gold rim glasses and bullet proof
Trucks watched and clinked glasses.
What a delicious view
Of tomorrow's death, mama.

---

It is election year and once again, my country begins to bleed as young men and women who should know better die for people who do not care. Once again the deceptionis being played out and they call it democracy. Once again, my country crumbles slowly to dust. Good morning.

©warpedpoetic, 2018.